


Wake Up Calls

by LazlosLulls



Series: Another Palette [4]
Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)
Genre: ...Quirin can't be the ONLY immigrant, A Moon Theory, Alchemy Metaphors, Angst, Baking, Cassandra and Varian are SIBLINGS, Cinnamon roll Varian, Cookies, Dads are Like That, Dark Kingdom Cassandra, Dark isn't Evil, Domestic Fluff, Easily Guessed Plot Twist, F/M, Farming Metaphors, Fluff, Gen, General Warning for Mother Gothel, Good Parent Quirin (Disney), Grief/Mourning, He's right but also wrong, Hector got a Rhino...so., Hopeful Ending, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Introducing Ruddiger!, Moonstone isn't Evil, Quirin Adopted Cassandra, Quirin Respects Women, Quirin doesn't think highly of Fredrick, Quirin has a Theory, Quirin has a Weird Deer for a horse, Quirin has the Brain Cell, Rapunzel Knows Nothing, Service Animal Ruddiger, Suspected Moon Varian, That woman is a bundle of triggers, The Black Rocks aren't Evil, Varian has the Brain Cell, Weird Deer, but it doesn't change much in the long run, fairytales - Freeform, inching ever closer to the fire..., when u have too much Worldbuilding, widower feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:15:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29182383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazlosLulls/pseuds/LazlosLulls
Summary: Quirin didn’t think he would be doing this today. Maybe sometime in the future, not in this sudden, uncertain present. He only moves forward, in a straight line, never looking back. It’s how he’s survived for as long as he has. Maybe it’s time to change direction.(It's the 1 year anniversary of Another Palette! Have some Lore! Quirin character study, with bonus father-son bonding and world building, taking place after his cameo in Chapter 8.)
Relationships: Cassandra & Quirin (Disney: Tangled), Quirin & Varian (Disney), Quirin/Varian's Mother (Disney), Ruddiger & Varian (Disney)
Series: Another Palette [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1658380
Kudos: 6





	Wake Up Calls

To Quirin, it always felt like each time he travels to Corona, the path gets shorter and shorter. He let Romana lead them back, as she knew the way well enough. (And if they got lost, well. He needed time.) The river deer seemed to have a sigh of relief once she was off the cobblestones of the main bridge and into the worn dirt. The forest deer briefly paused, as if confused by their cousin, large enough to hold a grown man on her back, with strange little tusks in her smile.

Romana’s herd was a gift from his old friend Adira. Her family used to tend to the river deer, breeding ones that could clear forest floors as well as haul plows. Quirin had split most of them up within his friends in Old Corona, and even more were left dotting the countryside between here and his homeland, to others like him.

Others that left Yurek, the Dark Kingdom that was swallowed up by the Ichordarum. While many had lost faith in the Heir’s control over the Moonstone, he did not. Quirin had full trust in Queen Kamaria.

Quirin knew he could never have done what she did. He was like a spear, finding one path that would work and going straight for it. Quirin would have tried to control the Ichordarum spread until he stopped it or it killed him. (He was once told his will was stronger than the Moonstone itself. He often wonders if that’s a good thing.)

Adira, for the matter, couldn’t have done what she did. Adira had to seek her own way, had to challenge the rules and the mundane. It was why Kamaria ordered her to go with the Caravan, then only smiled knowingly when the warrior denied her orders and left to pursue a way of breaking the Moonstone.

Hector, as Quirin believed he was called now, was the closest to understanding what she did. Kamaria commanded him to stay at the Great Tree, the bottleneck between the East and West. Quirin saw through Kamaria’s orders. His loyalty would be sated, he would be surrounded by the animals he cared dearly for, in a living, if dangerous environment. It was perfect.

Quirin had to be told directly to leave. He had focused much on Dur, practically making it burst with displaced families. He felt torn in two, running between Dur and Yurek to report on the situation. When it was clear she could not save Yurek, the Queen made a choice. She could not see her Kingdom ever being uncovered, not for twenty or more years, until the next Heir was chosen. She could not let them hope for something that may never come.

Their people undertook journeys to other kingdoms. Some only for a few months, while they found a more stable home, and others forever. Their children were left at Dur’s orphanage. Kamaria’s own child was kept there, in the hope if they were the next Heir, they could guide the Ichordarum better than she did.

The caretakers, Fatima and Mordecai, would joke that they even took Quirin in. In a way, he was also lost, cut off from his past, only holding an uncertain future. When Fatima had assured him that the young Cassandra he doted on was just as unmoored as he was, he had asked to keep her.

When he had told Kamaria, she smiled, gave congratulations, and set him to his path away from the Kingdom. He guarded the Caravan for the others that left Yurek, into Zulberg and Mizizi, past the Great Tree, even further out to Koto and Equis, until everyone they met asked questions about their river deer. Cassandra grew from a little bundle against his chest, to a toddling, babbling wonder.

Romana passed from the forest, into their little farming community. Quirin looked back, suddenly feeling unsure if he was followed. The spires of Corona’s Island were hidden by the landscape. That was (one reason) why he chose Old Corona, he never wanted to be in the shadow of a Castle again.

Another was Dana. Wonderful, inquisitive Dana Beaufort, who poked and prodded him out of his endless cycling thoughts. While she was a bit of a pariah, (what kind of woman would make a home out of an old, run-down fortress? Did she not feel safe?) Dana met him halfway, reaching out to pull him into a new world. He’d like to think that maybe, he had changed her life like she did his, giving her a shoulder to lean on, and a family with Cassandra and Varian.

His heart still ached when he thought about her. With Kamaria, he knew she was fine, safe in the Castle. Yurek was still buried, yet could be recovered. Dana was gone, and nothing could bring her back.

Cassandra didn’t want to remain at their home, the loss of the only mother she’d known cutting deep. She left for Corona, at first hopeful she would be a Guard, then less so as she reported to be a Handmaiden. Quirin didn’t see her again until her eye had changed, healed by Rapunzel. (Maybe more was healed that day, who knows?) Varian had stayed out of her Alchemy study for days, then suddenly threw on a pair of oversized gloves and made himself a new home there.

All of them mourned the same, throwing themselves into their work. The year dragged on, and there was so much that went unspoken between the three of them. There was a worse gap between him and Varian, he knew. There had to be a way to bridge it, if only because he missed his son.

Quirin blinked, pulling himself from his reverie. Romana certainly made it back to their home, practically pulling herself into the stable at the back end of their house. Yes, there were spikes coming from the ground, but something was different. Quirin nearly fell off of Romana, as if transfixed.

He has never seen one try to break the wall before.

He peeled his glove off and looked at the back of his hand. It was still inked there, if faded over time. A perfect circle, with three lines cutting through it. His mother marked him, while his father held his other hand. It was an honor, to be a part of the Fellowship, to shape the Ichordarum. It has never felt more like a burden until now.

Quirin reached out, only breathing once his palm was pressed to the stone. It was not cold, just smooth. Spikes were often the first things that an Acolyte could create. Two points, straight lines of want and need, coming together to form something new. He could feel an echo from it; a need to be free, to be trusted, to make them proud. Someone was calling out to the Ichordarum, shaping it to their will.

He breathed in, steadying himself. Quirin planted his feet, trying to force his will into the stone. Sink, shrink, go back to the depths, he tried to chant. But it wouldn’t budge, nor be carved into his shape. It wasn’t like the others.

Somebody was calling out to him. “Dad?” He would know his son anywhere. Varian’s voice was unsure, he noted.

Quirin’s eyes shot open, doing a quick assessment. His son was standing a little ways away, next to Romana. He was finally growing tall enough to reach her flank, and he had to squish down a little flash of pride. Varian was also holding a raccoon, but he had his gloves, and they weren’t struggling, so it was probably fine. From his vantage point, Varian probably couldn’t see his tattoo.

Quirin still hurried to put his glove back on. “Hello, Varian.” The Ichordarum would have to wait.

“You know something is going on. Is that why you went into town?” Varian’s eyes narrowed. “Did you tell the King?”

While Fredrick wasn’t Kamaria, (and _no one_ could be her, be forged by life and choices quite like her) he was…decent. A touch too focused on his reputation, on presenting a good front. And Quirin understood. He just wished that man had an _ounce_ of self-awareness. Maybe a touch more foresight. Arianna was _fantastic_ advisor; her firsthand knowledge of the Seven Kingdoms balanced his book-learning well. It was a shame she couldn’t hold official power, though what she can do has been good. Rapunzel, as future Queen Regent, would most likely write additional advisors into law, seeing as she didn’t have the most...typical Royal childhood.

He couldn’t believe he’d been so blind. Of course he didn’t trust Gothel, absolutely not after she tried to trick him into a loveless marriage for the sake of “giving Cassandra a mother”. To think, only months later, she would go on to steal a child, then raise her as a housemaid? Despicable. Even the rare times he saw her afterward, he could have done something. He should have sensed the centuries of magic burned up for her vanity, listened to more of her suspicious family history, or just have given her a harder time at the market.

Kingdoms that even _entertained_ the story of the Moonstone, of ancient magic, were few and far between. Of course he would arrive in one that worshiped a Sundrop, and have it be under his nose until the last second. Cassandra was saved, but the magic was used up, so he was told. (Cassandra and Rapunzel believed that, at least.) A Kingdom for a daughter, and he didn’t have the chance to choose.

With the Sundrop gone, a deal to investigate the Ichordarum was more than he could have hoped for. Offering information about who Rapunzel was friends with sounded trivial in exchange. Truthfully, he hasn’t seen those boys since they were toddlers. They couldn’t be separated, not for a moment. When Arnwaldo and Eugene darkened his doorstep a few days ago, it was almost unreal, like something Varian would read in a storybook. He could remember distinctly how Ji-Su would chase them around and try to get them to eat their greens. And they were here, suddenly grown, carefully introducing themselves like they’d never met.

Quirin had no choice but to believe Cassandra’s research about a “Lance Strongbow” and “Flynn Rider”. Master thieves, apparently, with the skills to prove it. He was sure the Eugene would be fine. Besides, he likely inherited his mother’s talent of talking her way out of trouble.

A trait that Varian would probably never master.

Quirin swallowed, “Yes, the King should be putting his best men on it.” It stung to lie, but it would stop his son from doing anything rash, he hoped.

“Uh-huh.” Varian nodded, trying to convince his own father that he believed him.

Quirin sighed again, knowing that he can’t press or else this conversation would end. Instead, he pushed his frustration to the raccoon in his son’s hands. “What are you doing with that?”

The raccoon in question chittered, climbing up his son’s shoulders like a strange scarf. “I was…thinking I could keep him?” Varian questioned, then shook his head. “At least it’s not a rhino.”

Ah. That old family joke. He could almost see Hector again, hair in braids, carrying two bearcats in thin little arms. Hector would see this little bandit cat and tell Quirin to stop worrying so much.

“You’re right. At least it’s not a rhino.” He repeated back. Cassandra had this phase already; raccoons are abundant in these parts. They were very opportunistic creatures, tenacious and tricky. She gave up after a week. Varian wasn’t Cassandra, though. “But you must train him, animal urine is _very dangerous_ around chemicals.”

“Psh. I know, Dad.” Varian rolled his eyes.

Quirin walked forward, attempting to ruffle his son’s hair. The goggles were in the way, so he just patted him. “Have you given them a name?” the raccoon sniffed at his glove. “You certainly can’t do worse than Owl the Owl.”

Varian snorted, “I know, right? Cass has _no_ imagination.” They walked back to their home.

Quirin looked upon the large painting that was in their den. It was of their family, all together. Quirin was holding a young Cassandra in his arms, and Dana was holding a smiling baby Varian. Separate parts coming together to make a happy whole.

Of course, that picture never actually happened – Cassandra was fully into her phase of childish independence, always squirming out of his grip. Varian slept and wailed alternately, too young to know better. Dana wasn’t taking new motherhood gracefully (nobody can). The painter came back over the course of several days to make it. He supposed it wasn’t much a depiction of their life at the time – but it _was_ one of their love for each other, and he treasured it all the same.

Varian was by side, gesturing to the painting. “Here’s a picture of my family.” He had positioned the raccoon much like Cassandra was; sitting up in his arms. “This is Dad…”

Quirin tuned out the description, alternately charmed and concerned. His boy was acting as if a woodland creature was a new baby sibling. Was Varian really that lonely, that he would reach out to a wild animal before other people? Surely he would have friends by now? Of course, his constant experiments and explosions would hinder that. He wondered if Dana was like this when she was younger. Another pang of regret, that she couldn’t be here guide the both of them through this.

“Do you think cookies would be good for training?” Varian said, breaking him out of his thoughts.

Quirin shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Make them small, though. He shouldn’t have too much, it could make him sick.”

“I’ve seen him eat garbage, I think he can handle sweets.” The animal nodded in his arms.

“He could get too heavy to pick up.” Quirin pointed out.

“Good point. Don’t worry, he’ll be a fully realized lab partner before you know it! I won’t let you down!” Varian marched straight over to the kitchen, disappearing from view. “See you at dinner?”

“Maybe sooner for one of those cookies!” Quirin promised, chuckling. Once his son left, his tattoo started to itch.

The Ichordarum wasn’t responding to him anymore. Was there something that he missed? He walked through the rooms, digging back into storage for an old chest. It was covered in dust, rarely used. Quirin opened it, only taking the graphtyc and a cloak clasp. The clasp was circular stone, with three lines through it, and black as night.

He sat on the closet floor, contemplating the words and pictures from the scroll. No one had ever brought the Sundrop or Moonstone together, but legend tells they came from the same source. Quirin did not believe that the Sundrop was fully gone. Maybe it was his connection to the Moonstone, but he could not believe it would disappear, not even after a miraculous resurrection.

Quirin assumes it was Arianna’s idea, or even Rapunzel herself, to let people believe it was gone. Of course the Sundrop, wherever the Royals were keeping it, could be influenced by someone. If the Ichordarum are reacting the Sundrop, why would they try to break walls _now_ instead of when they were built? He remembered the feelings he read from the stones. There was no conscious direction, no order. This was a matter of not only magic, but human emotions.

Whoever they are, they want to break down walls. They want to make others trust them. They want to prove themselves. Varian’s voice echoed in his ears. _“I won’t let you down!”_ Quirin dropped the clasp, not hearing it clatter to the floor.

It was only superstition, but they live in a world of magic, even if many people don’t realize it. When a child of Yurek is born with blue eyes, even if they change, it was a sign they were destined to be an Acolyte, even the Heir. Quirin was kept up with night terrors soon after Varian was born, that they would come to spirit him and Cassandra away. Into long, dark hallways, buried in so many layers of unmoving stone, left in silence.

He could be right, the Ichordarum could be reacting to Varian.

(He should be wrong. Dana should have something left in this world that was hers and hers alone. She deserves that much.)

Their family was always Fellowship, from the beginning. They always served the Moonstone, and the Moonstone served them.

(Except he left that behind, it should _stay_ behind.)

If he followed Corona’s rules of ascendance, Varian should be a Prince, Cassandra a Princess, and Quirin a King.

(What was that joke, about a King who cries because it rains, and it rains because he cries?)

If he was right and Varian was calling out to the Moonstone instinctively, it was destroying his home so he could prove himself. If he was wrong, then they still needed to take action, and it was better that Varian knew about Quirin’s role in all of this. He knew he didn’t have the answers for Varian’s future. But he did have his roots. Maybe it could be enough to bring his son some stability.

He searched for his old maps, gathering them. Quirin tried to rehearse, in his head, how he was going to say it. He can’t explain everything, it’s too much, wrapped up in the history of Yurek and Dur, its two final Queens, and the war over the Uz-Kapan, the stone that could entrap an Acolyte into horrifying obedience.

Cassandra had heard the full story while in Dana’s arms, when she was barely three summers old. He should tell her again. He feels a dread in his stomach at the thought. She’s finally found a place, with Rapunzel and others. Cassandra might leave them to chase a destiny she’s only heard whispers of. She would probably run headlong to Yurek, burning out even before seeing the tips of the Great Tree’s branches. Lots of determination, not enough restraint, much like him.

Quirin shook his head. No, he wouldn’t tell her the full story. He only needed to tell her enough to understand his actions and he would tell Varian the same. Their people were merely pushed out of their homes by the fickle Moonstone and indifferent Ichordarum, nothing more.

Quirin went to the basement door. He carefully propped it open, the darkness looming before him. “Varian?” He called down. He would walk down if he must, it wasn’t unusual for him to drag his son away from projects.

“Behind you, Dad!” Varian called out. “I’m still in the kitchen!” Quirin quickly closed the door to the basement, turning around. He wondered how he could have missed him.

“It took a longer than I expected. My friend got a little…excited about the sugar.” Varian chuckled. Indeed, the bag of sugar was stuck under a box that the raccoon couldn’t lift. His had changed his gloves for another pair, ones that were smaller and more suited to his size. His leather apron was hung up, replaced with a woolen baking one, splotched yellow and green, true color lost to time. The raccoon was sitting on a counter, watching with interest. “I feel like I’m missing something though…”

Quirin looked through the ingredients, noting the little paw prints through some spilled flour. It was a simple cookie recipe, one he could recognize his mother favored when she needed something to do with her hands. “She never wrote it down – but she always would add a splash of vinegar.” He pulled out the bottle from the cabinet.

“Vinegar? Oh! Combined with the baking soda, it forms air bubbles so the batter can rise a bit!” Varian beamed. “I can’t _believe_ I didn’t realize!”

Quirin chuckled. “It’s alright. She used to call it her trade secret. I doubt she wrote it down.”

Varian’s head was in the cookbook. “No, she didn’t.” He quickly made an adjustment, then pulled his head up, suddenly bereft. “…I should have known that.” He folds his head to his hands. “I’m forgetting her. It only been a year and…”

Quirin crossed the room quickly, wrapping his arms around his son. The raccoon reacted as well, rushing to Varian and putting his body under the boy’s chin like a pillow. “Hey, buddy. No, it’s not naptime…” Varian grumbled, pulling the raccoon into his arms. “I feel terrible, like if I’d loved her more I would have remembered that.”

“You love her, she knew that.” Quirin reminded him. “Even if the memories fade, she’s still a part of us.” An idea came to him, to prove it. “Do you know why your family name is Beaufort, and Cassandra’s is Medved?”

“Well, Hwan said you were really lonely so you stole a bear cub, called it Cassandra, started to feed it human food and teach it to talk and hold a sword…” Varian started, listing off his fingers.

Quirin leveled his son with a stare.

Varian grinned. “I’m kidding, Dad! Family names are _paternal_ , she’s called that because you’re called that.” His eyebrow raised, suddenly looking suspicious. “Are you _finally_ admitting I was adopted too?”

Quirin hummed, mouth curling up in a grin. Then said in a serious tone, “No. Dana made you in her Alchemy lab, in a little flask with some holes in it. I can show it to you, if you’d like.”

Varian stared at him in shock. The raccoon in his arms tried to push his dropped jaw close. “What- _no_!” he muttered. “How could you even-”

Quirin laughed, breaking his concentration.

Varian started to laugh as well. “Oh ha _ha_! I really thought I was an experiment for a minute there! Good one!” he pointed at Quirin, grin tight.

The raccoon jumped from Varian’s arms, over to his. “Hmm.” Quirin readjusted, trying to hold the animal like a cat. He didn’t seem to mind. “Regardless of how it happened, she _did_ do most of the work. Beaufort was _her_ family name, and we decided to give it to you. She’d be very proud of you, like I am.”

Varian looked up at him, like he’d been given a bounty he wasn’t sure he deserved.

How long ago did he say that last? When was the last time he _talked_ with Varian, aside from reprimanding him for an experiment gone wrong? Quirin felt the massive gulf between them again. He had to do something.

“If you are worried about forgetting her, then we can talk about our favorite memories together.” Quirin spoke, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Ah- yeah.” Varian stuttered. “I think I can handle that.”

Quirin began to talk, as they started work on the cookies. Varian replied back, with additions. Soon enough, the dough was ready. The cookies were barely the size of a coin. Quirin practically had to stand inside the oven so they wouldn’t burn. By the time they had finished, it was time to make dinner, and they talked even more, until Varian’s head was drooping. The raccoon scattered, possibly still too wild to stay the night.

He was too old for it, but he was light and Quirin was strong. Varian went up into his arms and was carried to bed. Quirin tucked him in. “I think it’s about time for one more story.”

“Ooo, what’s this one about?” his son asked, yawning.

“Once upon a time, a single drop of moonlight fell from the heavens…” Quirin started. His voice remained steady throughout the story, having heard and told it many times before.

Varian squinted, probably confused as to why he would tell him a fairytale, after all the day of memories. He may even remember it, from years past. Still, his son listened quietly, blue eyes looking attentively up at him.

One thing he’d thought he’d never share with Kamaria; looking at their child and seeing the eyes of their loved one looking back at them.

He had finished the story with an admittance. “I know it’s only a story, but every story was once a memory, every memory a piece of the truth. Goodnight, Varian. I’ll tell you more in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Dad.” Varian said softly.

Quirin walked slowly back to his bed and laid down. The room was quiet, only the moon giving a soft outline to everything. Dana’s bed was made neatly, covers untouched. They joked that they got separate beds because he was too used to sleeping on the ground. She would wake in the night, dreaming of new things, and had to get them on paper.

He reached out to the nightstand between them, resting his hand on top of it. Quirin sighed, and dreamt of another hand and a smile, reaching out to meet him in the middle.

There was a ringing in the golden hour, right before dawn. Quirin recognized it too well. Dana and Varian had strung bells and wire across their home so they would know when someone arrived at the door. He grumbled, cursing their ingenuity while slipping on a cloak.

Lance was at the doorstep, wringing his hands. There was a little raven on his shoulder, mimicking his movements. He looked tired, as if he was running from one end of the kingdom to another the whole night. He had asked for Quirin and Varian to come as a character witnesses to Eugene’s sudden trial.

Quirin had to bluntly reassure him that his brother would be fine. “The trial doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter how much he stole, how much he lied, even if he’s trying to do better now.” It was most likely the cold, or the need to get his morning tea that caused him to speak so frankly. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “He’s going to go free, because Fredrick’s new purpose in life is keeping Rapunzel contained. If anything happened to Eugene, Rapunzel would tear Corona apart.”

“Oh.” Lance rubbed his chin in an all-too-familiar gesture. “That’s…huh. That makes sense.” A weight seemed to be lifted off the young man’s shoulders.

“New fathers always go overboard, trust me.” Quirin patted Lance on the shoulder. “Now, do you have any other business?”

“Nope! Thanks, Mister Q!” Lance bowed, walking back to Maximus, the famous palace horse. He bent over, whispering in the horse’s ear. The horse snorted, and they raced off.

Quirin couldn’t shut the door fast enough.

As if summoned, Varian appeared by his elbow. “Hey, what- What’s the noise?” His hair was delightfully sleep-rumpled, eyes still bleary.

“Just a messenger, nothing to worry about. I’ll start the kettle.” Quirin assured him. “We have a lot to talk about.”

“Is it about that story last night?” Varian asked, perking up. “You were talking about indestructible black rocks…like the ones that are showing up now. But…that would have been hundreds of years ago!” he pushed his bangs up, trying to understand.

“Yes. And the Royals of Corona has been established for well over a hundred years, and you seem to have no problem believing that Rapunzel sprung up from them.” They sat at the table, and he pushed a mug of tea over to his son. “Or even about Demanitus.”

“ _Lord_ Demanitus.” Varian corrected. He started to scoop sugar into his mug and stir. “Where did you hear that story, Dad?”

Quirin smiled took a sip of his tea, also taken with a smidge of sugar. “From my mother and father, and from their mothers, probably.” He started to cut up some bread for toast, and Varian followed his lead, scrambling eggs.

“Don’t say _probably_.” Varian grumbled. “I want to know if it _actually_ happened. If it did happen before, that means someone stopped the Rocks.” They sat down with their breakfast. Quirin put jam on their toast. Varian started to eat, eyes focused on him. “If we know more about it, we can stop them again.”

This was good, he was interested. Varian was highly curious, but he also had some focus problems. Giving him some clues, then having him ask questions and build his knowledge from there was the best way in helping him understand, Quirin found.

“Dad. Where are you from? I know not Corona, _obviously_ ,” he snorts. “I’ve heard how you and Mom met at least a hundred times by now.”

(He loved that story. A very cautious traveler with a teething child, a manipulative old matron, a group of pub thugs _very_ keen on playing pranks, and a woman who buried traps in her front lawn like they were seedlings. It was a classic.)

Quirin chuckled. “I’ll need a few maps.” They cleared up the kitchen table, and found the maps where Quirin had left them yesterday. They had to lay them end to end on the floor of the den. “It’s not as far as it looks.” Quirin sat on the floor, and Varian shuffled close, nearly under his left arm.

Varian’s hand pointed to the black castle, at the center of the final map. “That’s the castle from the story, isn’t it? Made of the Black Rocks?”

“Yes. That is Yurek, the Dark Kingdom.” Quirin felt a little intake on breath from Varian. “When the Moonstone fell and began to grant people its power, the rock that surrounded it was called Ichordarum.”

“Ichordarum, huh.” Varian mumbled.

“Yurek is where I was born. This is where I became part of the Fellowship, to protect the Moonstone, and protect others from it.”

His son froze against him. Then he laughed, clutching his chest. “ _What_? I’m sorry, my pumpkin-picking Dad is a legendary warrior? You talked for an hour about growth rates of _beans_ , Dad! Tell me you’re joking!”

“I’m not joking. Farming is a very fulfilling lifestyle.” Quirin frowned. “Where did you hear about the Fellowship?”

“Hwan…says a bunch of other things too.” He darts his eyes, embarrassed. “It’s not my fault I had to wait months for the next _Flynnigan Rider_ book!” Varian looks down, rubbing his hands. “Besides, it’s not like you have a super-secret tattoo or anything…”

Quirin grunted, pulling off his glove. He made a mental note to speak with Hwan about his stories. Exaggerating their creed made him feel…uneasy. Like he was held under glass, preserved like a single rare specimen. That wasn’t true. Their culture still lived and breathed, even if it was unwound and stretched taut over the Seven Kingdoms. He held his hand in front of his son, patiently waiting.

Varian’s eyes widened and he gasped. “ _What?_ ” his son gently took his hand in his own. “That’s. I mean. There are so many bones and muscles in a hand, I can’t believe it looks so well-defined.” His thumb rubbed over his skin. “I would have thought it would be raised.”

Quirin could almost sigh in relief. Trust Varian to be curious rather than angry something was hidden from him. “It was raised when I first got it, but it came down in time.” He offered. “It’s the symbol of Yurek, much like Corona has a sun. The circle represents the unbroken power of the Moonstone, and the three lines represent the Ichordarum, both within its power and beyond it.”

“Am I going to get one?” Varian asked.

A deep rumble of protectiveness washed over him. “ _No._ ” Quirin said harshly.

Varian stopped holding his hand. “Oh. Okay, then.” His hands went back to his lap, lacing together.

Quirin felt a sting of regret for pushing too far. “Son,” he said in a softer tone. It was difficult to talk about these things, when he’s kept them buried for so long. “The tattoo is a pledge to serve the Moonstone above everything else. I do _not_ want you making that kind of commitment. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Varian nodded.

“What do you know about the Fellowship?” Quirin prodded.

Varian relaxed, rolling his shoulders back. “You’re a part of a group that governs Yurek, but you mostly train to guard the Moonstone from people who could use it for evil.” Varian said. “And I get it, the Rocks are pretty destructive, but…how can they be good?”

This…wasn’t a question he had thought Varian would ask. No child of Yurek would, as they knew the stone their whole lives. Quirin suddenly realized that he had _plenty_ to talk to his son about.

To start with: “The Ichordarum is a tool, much like pruning shears. It can be used to help trees, or harm them.” He paused, thinking again to something Varian could relate to. “Like your chemicals. They react to one another regardless of any sense of good or evil. It’s dependent on the person’s intentions and abilities, if they destroy or create.” Quirin’s hands found the cloak clasp from yesterday. “The first act of creation was to make a shelter.” The Ichordarum resonated, shifting under his fingers. “A home that wouldn’t crumble in an earthquake, or leak in a rainstorm, or be broken into by an army.” The clasp glowed an electric blue, then split into rods, forming and shaping into a small replica of the Castle.

“Woah.” Varian breathed, gently taking it from him. “That’s _awesome_ , look at all those little details!”

Quirin hummed. He felt like he was missing a turret or two, but he didn’t mind the compliment.

“So, wait, that’s a magical tattoo? _You’re magic_?” Varian gasped, insulted. He set the castle down onto the map, then his hands flew up to his head, as if the thought was causing him distress. “I-why didn’t you tell me? _How_ -can you do something about those big ones?” he gestured to outside.

“There wasn’t a reason to tell you before.” Quirin sighed. “I trust you can understand this, maybe not today, but in time. I cannot stop the Ichordarum spikes.” Varian’s eyes widened at his admission. “Something strong is calling out to them. I am able to slow them, but it seems our time is up.”

Varian recoiled, brows furrowing. His face twisted in anger, “So, are we supposed to _give up_?”

“No. I’m going to summon a friend and we are going to try removing them together.” Adira owed him a favor, and maybe she had found something after all. “If that doesn’t work, we’re going back to the source.” Cassandra was an adult, he could leave her to her own devices for a while. “I want you to come with.” Maybe some time away from Corona would be good for him.

“Are we running away?” he looked at the maps, shaking his head, “I made a promise to Rapunzel, and I’m not going to break it.” Varian stood up.

Quirin grasped at his hand. “I know. I want to be prepared if things go wrong.”

“Well it’s not going to go wrong.” Varian tugged his hand. Quirin let go and he started to stomp away. “I’ve got work to do.” His son left, disappearing into the basement.

Quirin sighed. He really thought he was getting somewhere. The gap wouldn’t be closed overnight. This was a start. He can bring him some lunch later, when he’s cooled off. Varian was right, anyway. Both of them had work to do.

Quirin rolled his sleeves and started his day.

**Notes:**

When you have all of this worldbuilding but it’s going to be like…another year before the squad actually gets to use it. This was good to get out, anyway. I had some super clunky words for the Moonstone and the Ruler of the Dark Kingdom.

Edmund is still a thing, (oh I have _plans_ for that man…) but the ruler of the Kingdom and who made all of the choices is Kamaria. Because Moms should stop dying and actually get character development.

This became an odyssey, let me tell you. First it was going to be Varian missing his mom so he’s making cookies, then I started to think about Quirin and _my god_ that man has so much to deal with. So I pulled the thread that he would talk with Varian about his past, and ended up with _so much_.

Okay everyone deep breath we are getting into worldbuilding again!

Romana is based on a Korean water deer, except big enough to ride.

The Brotherhood was changed to the Fellowship. They have total 7 Acolytes, including the Heir of the Moon, that serve as rulers, which have to have majority to pass laws. They can pass the title on to apprentices, it’s not limited to bloodlines, but there’s favoritism. The Acolytes can temporarily take the Moonstone and use it, but only with the Heir’s blessing. Only the Heir has to stay inside the Castle, they get the fancy stained glass mural and ghost statues. Anyone can challenge anyone else for a seat, because the main goal is to guard the Moonstone they would have to have strong defenders. Kind of a combination oligarchy and meritocracy.

Heir of the Moon is gender neutral, but for countries that need binaries and a clear leader, it translates to King or Queen of Yurek. Acolytes stay the same, and the apprentices are called Princess or Prince of Yurek.

The Acolytes and even senior apprentices get tattoos. Quirin’s tattoo connects him to the Moonstone, so he can partly control/communicate through the Rocks, but anyone with the Moonstone/Sundrop abilities can override him. This also makes him vulnerable to the Mind Trap, which is why the Fellowship ended up banning the tattoos completely.

Spikes are the easiest to make and construct with, but Kamaria, Adira, and other highly skilled wielders make it look like ink, fluid until it forms. Hector makes curved shards and Quirin makes straight lines, like selenite crystal structures. Look up pictures it’s neat.

 **Yurek** – Turkish for heart. ( **Corona** – Latin for Crown. Head and Heart, because I _will_ have my Shallura, even in another universe.)

 **Mizizi** – Swahilli for roots. North African inspired town near the Great Tree.

 **Ichordarum** – The Dark Kingdom’s term for the Black Rocks. It’s a word made up to mean material borne of the Gods. **Ichor** – In Greek and Roman mythology, ichor is an ethereal fluid believed to supply the place of blood in the veins of the gods. **Theoria Chordarum** – Latin for String Theory, a famous quantum physics theory.

 **Uz-Kapan** – The Dark Kingdom’s term for the Mind Trap. **Us** – Turkish for Mind. With a “z” for _extra_ evil! **Kapan** – Turkish for trap.

You’ll get to read the whole Moonstone story, don’t worry. Eugene tells it better, anyway. (Li-Su tells it the best.)


End file.
